Did you remember to perform the human sacrifice before you rolled the characters? Because if you only get to thatmid-campaign, there might be compatibility issues where Satan can't properly detect which D&D version you're using.

Ugo MaliceBeards, human outcast and traveller, have been crossing a mountain pass for several days. Tired and dehydrated, his body longed for a proper night's rest and warm food. He was approaching a site that should, according to his maps, contain a dwarven settlement. Ugo expected ramparts, walls, sturdy gates, and watchful patrols, but to his surprise, all he found was a hole in the ground with a ladder. Carefully, he descended the ladder and found himself in a dusty cave, dimly lit with several torches, with a few beds and sparse furniture. A single, healthy and content looking dwarf was sitting at a table carving a figurine from wood.

"Hello, my name is Ugo MaliceBeards. Could you please tell me about your local troubles?"The dwarf turned his creation in his hands, looking at it from several angles. "Well met, Ugo. We have here ... abductions, night horrors and bandits.""Tell me about the bandints, then.""A month ago, Borpo PlasticAxe, bandit leader and heathen, has started to terrorize local people with his band called Romantic Colors.""And could you tell me where I could find this Borpo, friend?""You cannot find him, for he is dead. A troll called Buchu NightCabbage has abducted Borpo three weeks ago, torturing him to death shortly after.""My blade longs for heroic deeds. Tell me, where could I find this troll Buchu to prove my mettle?""You could find him in a nearby forest, he won't put much of a fight.""Why is that?""Two weeks ago, my friend and companion Urist LongBottoms has tracked and killed this monster, whose lust for murder cost lives of hundreds.""That's excellent news, I would like to meet your friend Urist, commend his bravery and perhaps learn from him about combat.""I am afraid that is not possible, my friend, for Urist has left this world a week ago. He was killed at midnight in his sleep.""And pray tell me, who committed this craven murder?"Suddenly, the torches' flames dimmed a bit, and a chilling breeze blew through the cavern. In a moment of darkness, the eyes of Ugo's host gleamed with red light and he naked his long, white teeth in an ugly smile."That is an excellent question, Ugo, I thought you would never ask. It's time I told you about the night horrors that plague this land."

Well, in fairness, without Toaster, things could happen within a certain threshold of reason. But... well... Toaster decided reason was a stupid idea and should be circumvented, which now means literally anything can happen.

Human behavior is toxic behavior. The particulars may vary, but competition for dickery remains a constant. Need as well as asshattery have followed us to the stars, and the rewards of a bigger e-penis still await those wise enough to recognize this deep throbbing of our common pulse.

Fade in from from white. Level Angle, Mid-to-Long Shot of an incredibly attractive man stands alongside an ordinary man against a white background. They are both in neat casual attire.

Narrator: "This is Bob."The unremarkable man smiles and waves.Narrator: "He is an ordinary citizen of the United Worlds of Man, your average law abiding citizen. He obeys his magistars, he questions nothing."

Narrator: "This is Xan."The attractive man smiles and waves.Narrator: "He is who Bob can be - a citizen of the Allied Revolutionary Movement. Free from the oppressive tech bans, free to improve himself as he wishes."

With a ghastly growl, a writhing mass of flesh and chitin drops in between them. Long blades and an asymmetric construction give it a nightmarish visage.Narrator: "This in an Altered."The Altered hisses and growls.

Narrator: "Bob, meet Altered."Bob turns to took at the abomination, he tries to scream but never even gets as far making any noise. He is impaled by a lance of bone and rapidly assimilated into the Altered's tumorous mass.

Narrator: "Altered, meet Xan."Xan turns to face the Altered, he too is quickly impaled, before the tendrils fuse with his flesh, he winces slightly. The Altered only manages to partially fuse itself to Xan before it abruptly stops, its entire mass twisting and distorting, the tendrils so detaching without a mark as Xan partially assimilates the Altered into himself before recycling all of its biomass into a litter of adorable kittens.

You know, I'm quite glad that it is unlikely for time-travel to the past to occur in ER. Because otherwise, there would be the possibility that an interaction of Xan traveled back in time and that the Altered and the Doctor are just Xan (also satisfying the 'Jesus is also God' condition). Along with there being the possibility that Xan traveled back even further, implanted himself into all of humanity, killing, smiting and burning at will whilst perturbing what people perceived, effectively becoming God before using a person to conceive himself, interact with people, get 'killed' entering a death-like state and shifting back into a living form three days later.

Xan walks up to the two closest men and wraps his claws around their shoulders as his flesh transforms into an adhoc space suit.

"In the moment you're going to hear a popping noise. Thats the sound of your ear drums rupturing. Your best course of action right now would be to get all the air out of your lungs to minimize pressure differentials."

They start screaming

"Good! Just like that!"

A moment later the pressure in the room suddenly drops and the men jerk about for a few seconds before passing out onto the controls.

"Was that really necessary?" Morul asks, poking one of the men with his weapon. "No. But it was fun."

The Destroyer slowly opened his multitude of eyes.He had been entombed in the core of the planet for what felt like ages.He was Xantalos.Through every muscle, every fiber of his being, he was held rigidly in place by adamantine needles that pierced through him from all directions.But something was off.A solitary needle was slightly loose.Xantalos knew which one it was. He had memorized every single spire that infested his form.It led to a continent in the northern hemisphere. In a mountain range.In a mountain hall.Someone had dug too deep.

Xantalos flexed a single muscle, to push the needle out of his body, and used his newfound freedom to rip every last one of them out.And as he pushed them out, they cut through the solid rock, and tore the ground, and the very planet, asunder.With an immense wave of power, he broke his prison apart, and set himself free.

The most amazing thing about this is that someone, somewhere, thought it was a good idea. You'd think that sort of person would have died of asphyxiation due to being too stupid to breath, like, decades go. Is the NYPD ran by a stupidity lich? Is that what has happened? Someone was so stupid their soul ran away and hid in a box, and now they're running a major law enforcement agency. This is the world we live in. Maybe we'll get lucky and one of the walls those machine guns end up punching through will have the phylactery on the other side and save us this misery.

I remember the days - back before sigtexts and all that crap - when it was actually an honour to be in someone's sig.Now, anyone with a keyboard can spout nonsense and be pinned up in a post nobody reads and all the meaning has been drained from it.[/oldmanrant]

And someone's probably going to stick this in their sigtext just to spite me.

Since we can now add things to the Pantheon, I support the creation of special section "Demons" and placing there Xan as a patron demigod of teammates-caused collateral damage and sudden eldritch mission fuckup.

So, M18, if the sarcophagus suddenly cracks open and a couple dozen Eaters of Cold spawn around to greet Mommy, obviously Xan the Wicked Tentacle did it to you!

Oh, and worry not on-ship people, Auron was just posessed by Xan the Angry Living Overkill. You should not blame him for it afterwards, it was a failed hidden Will roll that caused all of that.Come to think of it, Xan-II-as-character is not at blame too - it was Xan the Laughing Fleshwarprer that posessed him and caused those tentacles-out-of-vents! Clearly, both Xan-II and Auron should have been marked by protective sigils against Xan the Demon by our holy Brother Lars beforehand. It might have averted the tragedy.

ELDRITCH CANCER THAT THE THRALLS OF CARBON CALL LIFE, YOU SUCK AT LOOKING FOR STUFF! MAYBE THAT'S WHY YOU KEEP ON JOINING US ALL THE TIME!

Randomly rant at life, look over at where that person said the sniper probably would and intuit where he is by speculating about what sniping position I'd take if I were a genetically augmented sniper.

[Intuition:5+1]You leap up off the ground and go sprinting toward EXACTLY WHERE THAT FUCKER IS, YOU'RE POSITIVE OF IT![dex:1-1][end:5]Xan makes it a good 50 feet at a straight out, snails pace sprint before being clotheslined by a bullet. It catches him straight in the throat, right through the windpipe and the spine. He jerks forward with the last of his momentum and then hits the ground like a sack of omnicidal potatoes.

Note to self: FUCK. ADRENALIN.Well, I'll return from this, no doubt - the Mission is far from complete. But if I go to meet my Father, I shall certainly bring a guest.

In the moments before I go tempdead due to lack of spine and neck, heat a 1-meter sphere at the point where I was so sure the guy was to sufficient temperatures to fry whatever's in it to ash. Then be dead.

*Gurgle gurgle FUCK YOU Gurgle*

[exo:6+1]You focus all your severed head rage at the area where you know the sniper is hiding. With your last moments of consciousness you sharpen your hatred to a fine point and let it tear out into space. A tendril of white hot energy rips out from your severed head and impacts the distant cage. The ship in the cage, the cage, and everything in several dozen meters in any direction vanishes, reduced to a molten slag that pours down into the repair pit below.

Implying that bog-standard rickrolling isn't shitposting at this point? It's less creative and thought-provoking than answering Darude - Sandstorm when someone asks what a song is.

It's well beyond evoking any emotion, even annoyance, delving into the abyss of mild apathy. Getting rickrolled is the online equivalent of someone you barely know telling you about something they claim is interesting that turns out to be dull, but not even dull enough for you can recount the experience to someone else later in the vein of "can you believe how boring they are?" The grey, empty chaff that fills the cracks of existence. A digital manifestation of the essence of ennui. That's what rickrolling is these days.

Xan, sensing that someone who is not him has just experienced a huge stroke of bad luck and fail, fears for his throne. In an effort to deter his would be usurper, he attempts to bring fun to his current situation.-snip-An action you intended to make things better actually made things better? What is this madness?...Damn it! Nikolai stole your luck! You bet that's why he run away. He just wants to steal your spotlight.

Is Alan's curse broken? Has he somehow become the only competent/lucky person in the team? Or is this simply one of luck's elaborate plots to put Alan in a position where he can cause maximum damage (if he hasn't done so already)? Could this all be just a giant 6, whose sideffects we have yet to see? Find out in the next exciting episode of DBZ.

Positive attitude is easy. Meditation... not so much. Not when Alan is around. Let me give you an example.

One day Zechariah is woken up from his guard duty by Alan yelling something. He enters the room, finding him pointing at a nest full of relatively large eggs."I'm telling you, that's not possible." Theri says, her voice still weak and whisper-like."And I'm telling you, they're mine. I'm a mum now. I'm going to love them, and care for them-""Alan, Alan." she tries to grab his attention but he either doesn't hear her or doesn't care, continuing on."-and feed them, and protect them, and pet them and-""Alan, you're male. Males don't carry eggs. And-""Penguins do!""Excuse me?""Penguins. They carry them between their legs."And now he can't stop imagining Alan in a tux, walking like a penguin."That's... That's not- Look you're not a penguin. You're a human. Humans don't lay eggs. You probably just summoned them in your sleep.""How do you know? It's my body. I choose what I do with it. Maybe I want to be a penguin. Maybe I'm secretly a lizard overlord."Well, he's certainly making as much noise as a chicken that's just laid an egg. Wonder if there's such a thing as a chicken overlord..."Besides, what other explanation is there? Someone came into the room and put a bunch of eggs under my bed? That's totally ridiculous. Am I right Rickman?""Haw! RidiculousAlan." the bird on the window caws in response."See? Exactly. Now excuse me, I have to take care of my eggs." Alan says with a smile of satisfaction."DangerAlan. EggsAlan." the bird exclaims as it flies into the room and close to Alan, sending gusts of wind around the room.The others state at Alan intently, then at the bird, then back at Alan..."So you don't have a comment about that?"Alan stares blankly at them for several seconds as the cogs in his head turn."About what?" he finally responds. "About the bird?"Several more seconds of blank staring follow."...Bird is the word?""No. You know, that thing?" he says pointing at the bird."Oh. That's not a bird. That's Rickman the Alien."

While the others are trying to recover from their surprise, the healer's assistant approaches and enters the room. You can hear her shouting before she even enters the room."What in the name of Akrios is going on in here? What is all that noise? What is that thing? No filthy animals near my patients. Get it out! Shoo! Shoo!""UhOh. MeanHuman. Hsss." Rickman says as he is shoved out the window, snapping his beak and hissing in a particularly un-birdlike way."And don't come back!" she adds as she slams the blinds shut behind him.That done, she turns to Theri, doing a quick check of her bandages and sutures and making sure she is warm."You need to heal. You need to rest. You need a calm and clean environment. And the other patients need that too. So no more noise and no more animals!"Just as quickly as she arrived, she leaves, closing the door behind her. A few seconds of silence follow before the conversation continues.

"Look, if they're your eggs, then who's the father?"That manages to give Alan pause as he considers the answer. He looks at Theri. Then at the eggs. Then at the window. Then back at Theri. Then he gasps and his eyes widen."Finally, he gets it.""You think Irine is the father?"*facepalm*

A related group of equally sized and shaped rectangles made from processed, grind vegetable matter, bind together by another material, displaying characters which in turn make up data which is relevant, useful and mandatory in case the super heavy, genetically modified human warriors otherwise know as "the hollow volume that occupies the distance between celestial bodies, seaworthy human males" have the express need of engaging in a violent exchanges employing the material specifically designed for such exchanges, as metallic plates to cover their bodies from enemy attacks, vehicles used to sustain a warfare environment and devices crafted to cause bodily harm to their targets, has one or more lumps of data that in turn makes up information, that might be interpreted without fear of a mistake that you currently proposed course of action might indeed prove to be what could be described as something that might be regrettable, have negative results in said violence exchange and not supported nor allowed by the data and information displayed on the aforementioned group of equally sized and shaped rectangles made from proceeded, grind vegetable matter.